let the rain come down, make a brand new ground
by hopelessromantic0707
Summary: "I have no idea what you're talking about." She's whispering, can't find her voice in the face of his anger. Based on the promo for 'Daddy Issues'  2x13


Title: let the rain fall down, make a brand new ground

Spoilers: Promo for "Daddy Issues" (2x13)

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Don't own _The Vampire Diaries _or _Where the Heart is_.

Summary: "I have no idea what you're talking about." She's whispering, can't find her voice in the face of his anger.

Author's Note: This is the first time I've written for _The Vampire Diaries_; Tyler and Carolline are quickly climbing the ranks of my favorite ships. This kind of slipped out in response to next week's promo. I guess it's more Caroline-centric than anything but Tyler/Caroline features heavily. Enjoy! [Constructive feedback is a wonderous thing.]

* * *

She hasn't felt this good, this alive, in ages.

She tells herself it isn't because of what happened the other night with Tyler; it can't be. The two of them are friends. Being anything more than that is irresponsible, something Caroline will never be if she can help it.

Her mind wanders, lights on the trig test she has next week, the paper on Moliere she has to write for AP French tonight, how she could really use a white chocolate mocha right now (blood doesn't have caffeine; there's no substitute for caffeine). Pretty much everything and anything to keep from thinking about...

Tyler. Tyler's hands in her hair, cupping her face. His lips on hers, cinammon and fire and belonging. Tyler, who'd sent her a text three minutes after she'd slammed the door in his face: _Sweet dreams, crazy 3_. She'd known he was making fun of her by adding the heart; it was a permanent fixture in almost all of her texts and emails. Still, it'd made her laugh. She couldn't help but wonder if they could start something without having end in disaster and shattered hearts.

God, she's acting like such a baby. The key is to make a decision and stick with it, no matter what.

She nods, tells herself it's what best as she unlocks her car door.

* * *

The plan? Totally doesn't hold up. Like, at all.

She's parked in front of the Lockwood estate, listening to the radio, ducking every time she sees movement through the windows.

Way to be a stalker, Caroline.

Shoving her keys in her jacket pocket, her boots crunch against gravel and she stands, because if she's outside, she can say she's going for a walk. With her car. Real smooth.

The woods behind the estate seem like as good a place as any to go, so she spins around...and sees Tyler striding in her direction.

"Hey." Excitement bubbles into her voice, she hopes he can't see the way she bounces a tiny bit.

Her bright smile falters, fades away completely, at his expression. "Tyler..."

The question on her tongue dies as he pushes her back, roughly; she's braced against her car, the door handle biting into her spine.

"I trusted you," he says in a tone she's never heard before, fisting her shirt in his hands, "and all this time, you were lying to my face."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She's whispering, can't find her voice in the face of his anger.

"Mason. Remember him? The guy you killed?" His eyes flash with each word; her teeth clatter together as he shakes her.

She could fight back, probably should, but her head is spinning, full of questions. She can't think of anything other than the way he's looking at her, like she's a mutant, or a murderer.

"Tyler..." She chokes on his name, it sticks in her throat, mixing with her tears. Taking a deep breath, collecting herself, she says what she has to say, what he needs to know. "I know what happened to Mason. But you have to believe me. I didn't kill him. I swear."

"Shut it, Caroline. I don't want to hear your bullshit." His fist comes toward her and she shuts her eyes, waiting for the pain.

There's no pain, only the sound of metal bending, followed by his steps on the driveway. Turning her head, opening her eyes, she sees that her hood is completely smashed in.

She sinks down against the door, pulls her knees to her chest and sobs. It's really girly, but she's a girl, her heart hurts and she doesn't know what else to do.

"Damon!" She slams into the house, tosses her bag at the wall hard enough to break a picture frame and marches toward the living room.

* * *

He comes out to meet her, holding up both hands in mock surrender. "You bellowed, my dear?" It's clear he finds this whole situation comical, which only makes her angrier.

"You have to tell Tyler about Mason. The truth." Her voice is low, as authoritative as she can make it.

"I don't _have _to do anything, Caroline. Particularly something as naive as that." He steps closer, until he's right in front of her. "I understand you're upset. Old Yeller hates your guts; but, in time, you'll see that having Jules spin that story for him is what's best for all of us."

She can't believe she's hearing this. It must be a dream, a nightmare. Her teeth are tingling, her face is shifting; the vampire side always wins when she's angry; she thinks this is a new level of anger, is kind of excited to see what will happen.

Damon doesn't even flinch at the change, remains stoic; in short, business as usual.

"You told him it was me?" Her hands curl into fists at her sides.

"I told Jules to tell him it was you, yes," His answer is matter-of-fact, slow, like he's speaking to a child. "Rumor has it you two have been getting closer in the last couple of weeks. I knew he wouldn't hurt you." His shoulders rise and fall, a shrug. "Long story short, saw an opportunity, took it."

She starts for the door, not bothering to look back.

"Where do you think you're going?" His tone is hard, the calm beginning to crack.

"To talk to Tyler."

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that." She hears him come up behind her, then there's a burn in her arm; within seconds, the world is swirling, starts to resemble an Impressionist painting, all dots and colors and fluid.

* * *

She startles awake, puts a hand to her head, tries to piece things together.

There's concrete underneath her, hard and cold. Her teeth chatter, bumping against each other every few seconds. It's freezing in here, wherever here is.

Looking around, her eyes take in wine bottles and not much else. The cellar. It's then that she notices the metal directly in front of her. He put her in a cage? Seriously?

Footsteps sound on the stairs and then Damon is there, in the room. When he opens the cage, she stands, ready to go past him and up the stairs.

She's not expecting him to backhand her across the face hard enough to send her sprawling; he lands three more hits before she starts to cry, hugging the bars for balance, even though she's on her knees.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she manages, crying so hard she's sort of hiccuping.

"I don't enjoy it, but I need to make absolutely certain you won't go blabbing to wolf boy. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," she bites out.

"Good." He extends his hand, helping her off the floor and up to the main floor. The taste of blood is the only reminder that the last couple of hours were real.

* * *

She's curled up on her couch in sweats and the warmest sweater she owns, watching _Where the Heart is _on Lifetime, when the doorbell rings.

Her brain tells her to let it go, ignore whoever's on the porch, and get lost in a world where girls have babies in Wal-marts and marry geeky yet loveable librarians.

That world is only a fantasy, though, not real life. Reality is what makes her pad to the foyer and open the door.

Tyler is standing on the other side of the threshold, concern clouding his features. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. She'd laugh if she was in a better mood.

"What do you want, Tyler?" Her arms cross her chest; it takes her a minute to realize she's hugging herself, protection from whatever he's come here to say. She uncoils, lets her arms drop loosely to her sides.

"To apologize. For this morning." His hands disappear into the pockets and he tilts his head to the side, studying her face.

"What made you change your mind?" she asks after a beat.

"You." The way he says it, she almost believes one word counts as an explanation. Almost isn't enough, though. Not this time.

Her eyebrows lift, telling him she needs more.

"I realized you would never do something like that; a) because you're Caroline and wouldn't knowingly hurt anyone and b) after everything we've been through...it just wasn't possible." He steps closer, so he's an inch away from being inside her house.

"After I'd come to this emotional realization," the corners of his mouth quirk into a half-smile, "Elena may have called and vouched for you, too; said you weren't the only vampire in Mystic Falls. Girl's like Ft. Knox...wouldn't give any names. Anyway, I went to the Salvatore place and looked for you- you hang out there a lot- but no Caroline. There was a cage in the cellar, though. Probably some weird sex game."

She tries to laugh, but it comes out watery; she looks down at her feet, in their fuzzy boot slippers, blinks away tears that have collected on her eyelashes.

"Hey, come on, Care," he pleads, folding her into his arms. This only makes her cry harder, so he rushes on. "I'm sorry, I really am. I feel like a total asshole, ok? Tell me what I can do."

"No-no-no-thing." The word is shuddery, barely even in the air between them a second before it's gone. She clears her throat, lets go of his waist, presses her palms into her eyes. "It's just been a long day."

He nods, leaning forward and touching his lips to hers softly. Backing up, he turns to go down the porch steps, leave her in peace.

"You want to come in?" She hasn't forgiven him, not completely anyway, but he'd come here to apologize. That has to be worth something.

"Sure."

She holds the door a little wider, lets him squeeze past her.

They're both incredibly screwed up people, with a list of problems a mile long. But in the spaces between the problems, there's the potential for something great.


End file.
